


The Persistence of Memory

by alizarin_nyc



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-21
Updated: 2009-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizarin_nyc/pseuds/alizarin_nyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no such thing as destiny. And Arthur thought he was a much more memorable fellow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Persistence of Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before and during Episode One. Some dialogue lifted from that episode. Written for the One-Night Stand ficathon.

During the awkward skirmish with _Merlin_ on the training field, Arthur was sure that everyone would know. Merlin addressed him as “friend.” There was no way this was going to end well.

“Do I know you?” Arthur asked, hoping against hope that Merlin would give the right answer. And when he did, going so far as to _introduce_ himself, Arthur was furious. He threw him in the dungeon. Maybe that would jog his memory.

The stocks didn’t seem to jog his memory either.

When Arthur later ran into Merlin in town, Merlin pretended he’d never seen Arthur Pendragon in his life.

Arthur wanted to crush him and luckily he had weapons handy.

“I could take you apart with one blow,” Arthur said, laughing.

“I could take you apart with less than that,” Merlin said.

But it didn’t go quite as Arthur expected and as he chased Merlin into the market, he could feel his face turning red and he knew he was facing down utter disgrace and humiliation in front of everyone, going all out for a mere _boy,_ who had gotten under his skin.

But no one noticed a thing, and before he could say “ _pretend you’ve never met me, you idiot!_ ” Merlin saved his life and was his appointed manservant.

 

**~A couple of years earlier~**

Arthur loved hunting. Or more precisely, he loved long hunting trips, away from his father, away from the prying eyes of the castle’s best gossips. It was hard enough bedding down anyone – usually he managed it with visiting royalty, town girls or older women who absolutely insisted and promised discretion in return. But what Arthur really wanted were the things he couldn’t have.

Not that women were things, mind you.

It was a product of his upbringing. He was given everything, even if he didn’t care for it. But the things he was forbidden took on a life of their own and he felt such a squirming, undeniable _need_ for them.

Uther had dismissed a servant girl who was Arthur’s favourite playmate when she turned 12 and it was suddenly clear that she was going to blossom into an indisputable beauty of irresistible proportions. The king had also encouraged a fiery competitiveness between him and Morgana to ensure that they could hardly stand to be in one another’s presence.

Hunting trips to the far ends of Albion were therefore Arthur’s only chance to drink his fill of ale and to bed whomever he pleased, in whatever way he pleased. In short, they were his only chance to be anything other than the heir to the throne, Uther’s son, future prince and future king of Camelot.

 

**~A couple of years later~**

Arthur watched Merlin as he shuffled around his bedroom, straightening up, polishing armour, clearing the fire grate and in general, being insufferable. “Are you competent at _anything?_ ” Arthur asked.

“Yes sire,” Merlin said absently.

“Well?”

“Sorry, what?” Merlin looked up, but he was far away. He was the most incompetent manservant Arthur had ever had. Also, he was an idiot. Arthur could not believe he had once thought there was something special about him.

“There’s nothing special about you,” Arthur said.

Merlin grinned and ducked his head.

Arthur was suddenly sure that Merlin _didn’t even remember him_ at all.

 

**~A couple of years earlier~**

Arthur swaggered into the inn just as the sun set, his knights and a few of Uther’s men sat heavily at three tables and began banging on them for ale. All were sweaty and grass-stained from a day on the hunt. Arthur was more than ready to chase tail of a different kind and he looked around the room just as eagerly as he’d scanned the forest for game.

A saucy serving wench, a demure peasant girl with her mother, her mother. Arthur would be spoiled for choice tonight. The sky was a steely blue and the open windows had not been shuttered for the night. Everything was absolutely beautiful and the ale was the best thing he’d tasted in weeks.

The door to the inn opened and more people spilled in, mainly men, fresh from field work. One in particular stopped at the lintel and looked around, briefly catching Arthur’s eye. In turn, Arthur found himself catching his breath. The boy was black-haired, fair-skinned, blue-eyed and beautiful. He had a full mouth, curved in a secret smile.

All thoughts of saucy serving wenches flew out of Arthur’s mind. But it was ridiculous, he’d never in his life considered a male partner, it was unseemly. Yet he could not take his eyes off the boy.

“And then Pendragon let his arrows fly and claimed it was his kill!” The men were uproarious, shouting at Arthur, refilling his tankard and telling enormous lies.

“It was obviously my shot, I was in the lead, and as I recall, you did shoot first and your arrows landed neatly in a nearby tree. Feel free to claim that tree as your own, the boar was clearly mine.” Arthur leaned his head back and drained a fair amount of ale. He would forget the boy in the doorway and let the night take him. He’d bed _two_ saucy women, or better yet, the mother and her daughter, and put to rest any thoughts of a pretty male mouth.

But the pretty male mouth was smiling again, the boy seated in a corner with his mates, calmly sipping a cup of mulled wine and looking like he was keeping the best secret in the world. His long fingers stroked the cup idly. All the air went out of Arthur’s lungs.

His next smile was patently false, but his drunken knights bought it anyway. “I’m going for a little stroll. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, standing up and lifting his tankard, too. He held his head high as he walked to the door and slipped out. Hopefully, no eager young girl would follow him this time. He needed air, and that wasn’t just an excuse to visit the stables with company in tow.

“Too much to drink?” The voice startled him out of his reverie, one which had been in progress with Arthur hanging on to a fence post, head down, staring furiously at a piece of grass and asking himself _what the hell is wrong with me?_

It was him, of course. The boy. His bright eyes were visible even in the darkness, the orange glow from the inn outlining his face.

“What is it to you?”

“Nothing at all, sorry to bother you, just getting some air myself.” The boy turned to walk away and suddenly, Arthur was desperate that he stay.

“Hold on. What’s your name?”

“What is it to you?” he parroted.

“Nothing at all,” Arthur returned. “Only… I would really like to know.”

“Merlin,” the boy answered.

“Arthur,” Arthur said, extending his hand. They gave each other a manly hand shake and Arthur met Merlin’s eyes, hoping that the fact that he was sinking into them wasn’t completely obvious. He felt himself sway a little on his feet. He felt a tingling sensation where his hand had touched Merlin’s. Merlin hadn’t stopped looking at Arthur either, and suddenly Arthur had the strange sensation that this boy was seducing him. _Seducing him._

“Are you?” Arthur asked, his tongue just a bit thick in his mouth.

“Yes. I am,” Merlin said. It was like Merlin could read his thoughts and Arthur wondered briefly if this boy was a sorcerer of some sort. He shook the thought away. Maybe Merlin just thought he was drunk and was humouring him. His thoughts were ridiculous. But so was the situation and the fact that he was considering, _hoping_ , that he could sleep with this boy, and do whatever it was that boys did together. Why had he never considered it before?

“Are you from around here?” Arthur sounded stupid to his own ears.

“Yes. Quite near. And yet I’ve never come to this inn before tonight. It’s odd, don’t you think?”

“I’m from very far away. We’re here hunting,” Arthur said. He wanted to keep talking, to keep watching Merlin’s mouth move, and have those eyes pinned on him. “I have a room.”

“Good for you,” Merlin said, smiling.

“I mean. Well, would you like to see it? Since you’ve never been here before.”

Merlin paused to look away before answering. He seemed to be considering something. All Arthur could think about was getting him and keeping him. He seemed like he belonged to Arthur. He seemed like the very thing Arthur wanted more than anything.

“Sure,” Merlin said with a shrug, and Arthur felt some of the desperation drain away from around his heart. He still was having trouble catching his breath.

“This way,” Arthur said, aiming for light-heartedness and only sounding lustful and strange to his own ears. He’d take Merlin up the back stairs; it wouldn’t do to let anyone see him hauling a boy up to his room instead of a girl or two. Merlin followed obediently, and even picked up Arthur’s tankard and carried it for him. The room was plain and the floor was worn by the scuffing of thousands of boots across it. Merlin didn’t seem to care, but nodded distractedly at the simple bed with plain cotton sheets and pewter basin on the side table.

Arthur lit the candles on the mantle and turned to face him. He had never been so nervous in his life. This was nothing like bedding a woman – nothing at all. There was no giggling, for one, and no opportunity to simply reach under a skirt and find what he wanted. He didn’t even know how another man would feel under his fingers.

Merlin said nothing, just moved that much closer to Arthur. He seemed very patient, as if he knew already what was going to happen, and was prepared to wait until Arthur was.

Arthur was ready. He nearly lunged for Merlin, abandoning all hope of grace and grabbing Merlin’s shoulders to steady himself. The fire inside him was growing and he realized with a start that he was already hard inside his trousers, pressing against the laces, and it must have been terribly obvious. He stared down at the pretty, parted lips and then kissed them. He could barely breathe, but when he did, it seemed he was inhaling Merlin. He stifled a moan. This couldn’t be happening. Not this way, not like this, he couldn’t possibly want this so much.

“You’re so beautiful,” Merlin said. Arthur was stunned. He was thinking the same of Merlin. “Take me to bed, Arthur. I want you to.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing, exactly,” Arthur confessed. But he did. He was pulling Merlin’s tunic over his head, feeling the roughness of the fabric and wanting to rub his cheek against it. He pawed at Merlin’s trousers, he had to see him naked. Merlin let out a huff of laughter but it only inflamed Arthur more. He nearly ripped the garments off and then pushed Merlin down on the bed.

“Please,” Merlin said. “I want to see you, too.”

Arthur obliged. He was all too ready to relieve the pressure on his cock and he nearly burst out of his laces. Boots were tossed aside, he knocked over his quiver in his hurry and arrows scattered everywhere. He didn’t really care. The tankard fell over on its side with a loud crack. The smell of ale soaked into the room. He didn’t really care. All he could see was the lithe, pale body in his bed, the beckoning smile, the twisted bit of sheet covering what he most wanted to see.

He kissed Merlin again and climbed on top of him. Normally, he would start thrusting now, but everything felt different. He held back and just let his tongue explore Merlin’s mouth and his hands explore Merlin’s body. When he finally moved to Merlin’s neck, Merlin was taut beneath him, his cock was hard and Arthur couldn’t help but begin to push his cock against Merlin’s. When Merlin reached down and pressed his thumb against the wetness at the tip, Arthur groaned. When Merlin began to rub back and forth along the head while thrusting up against Arthur, Arthur came.

“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Arthur said. He’d never said _that_ before. The whole thing was like a dream. His body hummed like a guitar string and shadows danced around the room, flashes of white and red and black burned behind his eyelids. He slithered down Merlin’s body and before he could think, took Merlin’s cock into his mouth, sucking and kissing and claiming and making Merlin cry out again and again and again until he came, messy and strange in Arthur’s mouth and on his face.

 

**~A couple of years later~**

Arthur eventually came to terms with the fact that Merlin didn’t remember their one night stand at all. As much as it was a blow to his ego, he had to admit that at the time he might not have been recognizable. He wasn’t playing the part of the king’s son, and was dressed like many hunters that probably had traveled there from Camelot.

Merlin had been gone when Arthur woke up, so maybe he hadn’t gotten a good look at Arthur in daylight. Maybe Merlin was drunk.

Maybe Arthur wasn’t all that memorable.

Arthur had given up on subtle hints. He refused to humiliate himself by asking Merlin outright. If Merlin could forget, so could Arthur.

Except Arthur couldn’t forget.

 

**~A few months after that~**

Under suspicion of sorcery, Arthur had Merlin’s room tossed. He fingered the rough cotton of Merlin’s clothes and glanced quickly at the shape of him in the bed. If Merlin was a sorcerer, it would explain the strange power he had over Arthur and Arthur would be free of it once and for all.

He threw open Merlin’s wardrobe. There, on the shelf, sat a tankard with a broken hinge, suspiciously like the one Arthur was drinking from on a particular hunting trip a few years ago.

Arthur smiled and put Merlin’s trophy back in its place.


End file.
